


Toss A Coin To Me, Witcher

by hmasfatty



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Australia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Online Dating, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Sugar Daddy, ice hockey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmasfatty/pseuds/hmasfatty
Summary: When Geralt's ex (and best friend) Yennefer signs him up for online dating he has no idea that his life is about to change forever.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 68
Kudos: 181
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first work of fiction in 15 years! Characterisation is based on a mishmash of TV, The Witcher 3, the tiny bit of "The Last Wish" that I've read & stuff I've cobbled together from reading fanfic and wikis. I set it in Melbourne because why the hell not & it occurs in some random year when there isn’t a pandemic. Edited by my lovely wife. I hope you enjoy!

If pressed on the matter, Geralt would admit that Yennefer had forced him into it. If left to his own devices, Geralt would, as was his habit, say very little at all. It had begun, as so many things with them did, with a great deal of alcohol and it had ended (or so Geralt had thought) with a rather nice fuck, though they had been broken up some nine months by then. He remembered, vaguely, Yennefer telling him it was time to move on and even offering to help but he definitely did not remember accepting such an offer and even if he did, well ... she always did like to exceed expectations.

The morning after their drunken, half-remembered conversation Geralt levered himself slowly out of Yennefer’s bed. She was long gone, having had an early surgery to get to, but by this stage he was well and truly familiar with waking up to her cold, empty apartment. He stumbled into the kitchen, pulling his hair back into a ponytail and scrubbing a hand over his face, feeling the rasp of his stubble, catching on a new cut on his lip.

“Damn it Yennefer” he said, for the first but not for the last time that day. He began his usual struggle with the espresso machine, with only his desperate need for coffee, and his awareness that it was probably the only thing Yennefer truly loved, stopping him from flinging the bloody thing through the floor to ceiling windows. Coffee finally made, Geralt stood in front of one of those windows, unabashed in his nakedness, and gazed over Melbourne. It was early still, on a bright, sunny day, and a couple of hot air balloons sailed across the clear sky. For a moment, a short, wonderful moment, Geralt felt at peace. And then his phone made a noise he had never heard it make before.

Geralt was not a fan of mobile phones. He needed one so he could be on call for work and, apparently, so he could be on call for whenever his ex-girlfriend needed a warm body in her bed, but he tried to forget it existed otherwise. He had very few apps, and those that he did have had their notifications turned off. So why had his phone decided to _ding_ at him like this? He padded over to it, scowling, barely registering at first that it was sitting neatly on the large glass coffee table next to Yennefer’s wine glass, rather than on the hall table where he’d left it. When that fact _did_ register, his scowl deepened, another “damn it Yennefer” cut off by another _ding_ from his phone. A quick glance at his screen revealed notifications from something called “Valley of Plenty”, an app he was absolutely certain had not been on his phone the day before. Filled with apprehension, he thumbed open his phone and located the app. It had an innocuous logo of a dark green _V_ and a lighter green _P_ . Taking a deep breath he opened the app. WELCOME TO THE VALLEY OF PLENTY it announced HOME OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST SUGAR CONNECTIONS SITE. As he was struggling to come to terms with this, a few other things made themselves clear to Geralt. Firstly, he apparently already had an account on the app. Secondly, he already had a number of messages. And thirdly it was very possible _Yennefer_ had a profile on the app, if it had been her go to for a drunken prank. First things first, Geralt resolved never to go looking for Yennefer’s own profile, if it did exist. They already knew far too much about each other and it just wouldn’t be right. Second, he had to know what she’d written about him as his profile. Then he would deal with the messages.

Thankfully, the profile was brief:

WhiteWolf

About Me: More jacked than anyone else you know. No really. Strong and silent type. Veterinarian & Ice Hockey Defenceman. I love my horse more than anything else in the world.

What I’m Looking For: (Tags: active lifestyle, flexible schedule) Someone to join me on my adventures. Must love animals.

He wasn’t really sure he had adventures, but he supposed Yennefer _had_ been very drunk when she’d written it so it could have been a lot worse. The pictures she’d chosen were questionable - there was one of him in the _bath_ for God’s sake- but he didn’t know how to change them. That would be an exercise for another day, possibly after a few choice words with Yennefer. 

Geralt took a deep breath. Time to look at the messages. He knew enough about these kinds of apps to know that a lot of spam went through them & he hoped that that was all the messages were. He hoped some real person wasn’t pinning any hopes on someone like him. Not only was he fundamentally not fit for any kind of relationship at all (the failure of his and Yennefer's relationship had been proof enough of that!) but he certainly wasn’t rich enough to be a … a Sugar Daddy (he could see the capital letters in his mind as he thought the words) or anything as ridiculous as that. Yennefer, now she had money - she was a successful cardiothoracic surgeon - but he was just a suburban vet who spent all his money looking after his horse and replacing his hockey gear. And besides, what did he want with someone who was only interested in money anyway? Maybe he shouldn’t even read the messages. Maybe he should just delete the app, tell Yennefer to get fucked and go about his day. But curiosity got the better of him and he found himself clicking on the message icon.

The first three messages all looked to be the expected spam, but under that was a message from Sybille93 which read “hey handsome. can I come join you in that bath?” Well, at least she’s actually looked at his profile. He supposed he could return the favour. Sybille93 was a beautiful young woman, that was certain, but Geralt winced when he noticed she was ten years his junior. He quickly clicked back to the inbox and found one more message, this one from a man calling himself Dandelion.

Like Sybille93, Dandelion had clearly looked at his photos, but instead of focusing on the obvious one of him in the bath, he seemed to like a photo Yennefer must have taken (completely without Geralt’s knowledge) at the local pub one night. In the photo Geralt is dressed in his customary all black attire, gazing moodily into his pint, surrounded by shadows. It was a very atmospheric photo, but a Geralt thought it made him look sad and grumpy.

Dandelion didn’t seem to agree. He’d written “Love the way you just sit in the corner and brood. Very sexy! Penny for your thoughts? Or we don’t have pennies any more do we so that’s a silly thing to offer you. How about this lovely piece of toast I just made?”

Geralt wasn’t sure but he didn’t think offers of toast was exactly how these kinds of messages usually went down. He clicked on the man’s profile, and was met with a pair of the widest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They looked so much like the sky on a crisp, clear morning that he was briefly transported back to his moment of peace before his phone had started its infernal _ding_ ing. The man’s face was young looking and Geralt quickly checked his age, relieved to find him to be 31, only six years younger than himself. His profile had many pictures on it, including ones of him playing a variety of musical instruments, some of which Geralt couldn’t identify. It read

Dandelion

About Me: Stunning, lithe nubile twink with a voice like an angel and wickedly talented fingers. Doing my PhD in Music so you know I’ve got time to kill and I need the cash!

What I’m looking for: (Tags: attentive, active lifestyle, passport ready, flexible schedule, sugar veteran) I’m looking to be PAMPERED! I want someone who knows when they’ve found a good thing (ie me) and knows how to treat that good thing right! I scrub up real nice when I have to, but I do my best work scrubbed down (if you know what I mean). You look after me and I’ll look after you! 

Geralt snorted. He wasn’t sure that “twink” quite applied here, but the man certainly seemed to know what he wanted and how to put his best foot forward. He'd give him that. Geralt took a screenshot of his profile and sent it to Yennefer, knowing that she’d get a laugh out of it.

He was surprised when she messaged back almost immediately: “What a find! If you don’t message him back, I will!”

Geralt was startled. He and Yennefer had never really had the same taste in people before. Not that Dandelion was to his taste. Was he? He stared down at the profile again, caught once more by the intense blue of those eyes. The man was definitely good looking, but he sounded incredibly high maintenance. Maybe it would be better to let Yennefer have him.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, as if by magic, Yennefer messaged him again. “That wasn’t me giving you an excuse not to message him, you dick.”

Geralt sighed, and returned to his messages, typing quickly so as to avoid getting too stuck in his own head. “Wouldn’t want to come between a man and his toast. You can have a thought for free: why are there never enough hours in the day to go riding?”

A reply came almost instantly. “I ADORE riding.”

Geralt was surprised. “You like horses?”

“Never been on a horse in my life 😉”

“Hmmmmm” Geralt said out loud, trying not to smile. He felt like a joke like that shouldn’t be rewarded, but he was finding talking to Dandelion strangely enjoyable. Another message followed before he could figure out how to respond. “Sorry if that was a bit much. I realise we’ve only just met. Does your beloved horse have a name?”

“Her name is Roach. What kind of music do you play?”

There was a longer pause before the next message came through. Long enough that Geralt began to get nervous that Dandelion had found something better to do. But eventually a message appeared. “Roach! What an … imaginative name! I play whatever the muses may inspire in me (and occasionally what cash may inspire). But my true love is the lute and mine she is called Sabine! I compose Renaissance style lute songs and _chansons_ for the lovely Sabine. Perhaps we could play for you sometime?”

Geralt had only the vaguest idea what a lute was, and absolutely no idea what “Renaissance style” meant but music was music, he guessed. “I’d like that.”

“Good to hear. Now I must dash, but it’s been a delight talking with you. Message me again sometime 😉”

Geralt sent off a message saying goodbye and confirming that they would speak again and say back against the couch with a long exhale. What was he _doing_?

“Damn it Yennefer”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So excited to be brining you an unprecedented SECOND CHAPTER! Once again, this was edited by my glorious wife & I hope you enjoy!

A few nights later, after a difficult day at work and a couple of beers, Geralt’s thoughts turned to Dandelion again. Geralt had never done the whole online dating thing before - he and Yennefer had met through a mutual friend many many years ago - and he’d certainly never given any thought as to how one should interact with a potential … sugar baby? But something about Dandelion made Geralt want to get to know him better, and if what the other man wanted from him was a Sugar Daddy then Geralt would certainly try. But he needed help.

Fifteen minutes later, Yennefer was walking through his door.

“Did you open up a portal to get here or something?” Geralt growled. “One of these days you’re going to get caught speeding like that and no amount of flirting is going to get you out of it.”

“Oh please,” Yennefer said sunnily, “I can get out of anything I like, you know that! And besides, traffic was light this evening. I was barely speeding at all!”

“Hmmm.”

“Anyway, on to more important matters like the wine and your new boy toy.”

Geralt was already on his way up to get the wine when the second half of her sentence registered.

“Yen. He’s not my boy toy. He’s not my  _ anything _ but he’s certainly not that! He’s 32! And he’s…”

“Yes, yes I’m sure he’s all man. I asked around after him, you know. He was Tessa de Stael’s boy for years until she kicked him out. So he’s got expensive tastes, but he’ll also know how to take orders.”

Geralt frowned at the idea of someone kicking Dandelion out. Had the man been hurt by it? How long ago had it happened? Was he ok? Why did Geralt care so much?

Yennefer was still talking. “He’s some kind of musician. Or all kinds of musician it seems. Plays some kind of dreadfully serious music nobody will ever listen to at the university and jumps from band to band playing gigs all over town every weekend.”

“He plays the lute,” Geralt offered.

Yennefer smirked. “Which nobody would ever listen to, like I said. But musicians can make excellent lovers, if they’re not too full of themselves. I recommend you go for it.”

Geralt handed her a large glass of Barossa Valley Shiraz and sat next to her on the couch, inclining his beer bottle to her in a faintly ironic toast. “Say I did want to  _ go for it _ . How exactly would I...do...that?”

Yennefer sat up straight and put on the face Geralt was pretty sure she wore when she was teaching her junior doctors. “Ok. So, first you have to figure out what he wants from you. The great thing about sugaring is you can straight up ask - none of this hedging around all  _ oh but does he like like me? Will he still respect me if I ask him to put his finger up my bum _ . Does he want experiences - to be taken to fancy restaurants, nice hotels, the opera - or does he want cash? What is he prepared to do in return? Will he just offer companionship? Some flirting? Kissing? A finger up your bum? Once you know what he wants and what he’ll give you for it - you’re all set! Oh, don’t look at me like that, Geralt!”

Geralt hadn’t been aware he’d been looking at Yennefer in any particular way, but his face felt hot and his insides felt twisty with a mix of shame and excitement.

“You need to live a little!” she said. “This is fun! It’s not some forever thing. You’re not magically binding yourself to this guy for all eternity. Just have some fun, buy him some pretty things, get your end away and get out of this funk you’ve been in for months.” She patted him on the cheek and took a big swig of her wine. “I didn’t break up with you to make you miserable, you know. I did it so we’d  _ stop _ being miserable.”

Geralt  _ definitely  _ wasn’t drunk enough for this conversation. It wasn’t that Yennfer was wrong - they hadn’t been happy together, at the end - but he definitely missed the good days of their relationship and he wasn’t quite sure how fucking some gold digger was meant to make that better. But he had always been a soft touch for Yennfer and her schemes, so when she grinned slyly at him, drained the rest of her wine glass and said “Trust me, I’m a doctor” he gave in and pulled out his phone. 

He’d received quite a few more messages since he’d last looked at the app. He scrolled past them all quickly, looking for his conversation with Dandelion. When he found it he paused, uncertain. “Do you want me to wait and do this once you’ve gone home?”

“I very much do not! Besides, you need all the help you can get!” Yennfer retorted, getting up to pour herself another glass of wine and bring him another beer. “What are you going to open with?”

Geralt frowns. What  _ was _ he going to say? He slowly typed out “I’ve been thinking about you tonight” and held up the phone to show Yennefer.

She handed him his beer and patted him on the head approvingly. “Good boy. The truth is always a good place to start.”

Geralt pressed send on the message and let out a long breath. Who knows if he’d get a reply any time soon? It was about nine o’clock on a Wednesday night and he was sure the other man had better things to do than sit around waiting for messages. He and Yennefer settled in with a movie, but about fifteen minutes later that  _ ding, _ which had originally filled him with such dread, startled him almost out of his seat. Yennefer laughed but he barely heard her as he hurried to open the message, which read: “Just tonight? I’ve been thinking about you for days!”

Geralt blushed.

“Glad to hear I’ve inspired such thought,” he typed, and then paused.

Yennefer climbed over on the couch to peer at his screen. “Ask him what he’s been thinking. Honestly Geralt! I utterly refuse to Cyrano de Bergerac this situation so you’re going to have to figure this shit out.” She sounded fondly exasperated. Geralt finished the message as he’d been told and waited nervously for a reply. He didn’t have to wait long. 

“I’ve been thinking about those arms of yours. Holding me, holding me down. About running my fingers through your hair. About what a pretty picture we’d make together. About how I could make you smile.”

“Oh he’s  _ good _ .”

“Yennefer! This is … I think this is private.” Geralt was feeling lightheaded reading Dandelion’s message. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t just...say things like that. But he also didn’t want to stop hearing them. Yennfer looked at him shrewdly. 

“Alright then. I’ll head off. But call if you need anything. As always.” She kissed him on the forehead, leaving a smear of dark red lipstick, and sauntered out of his apartment, taking the last of the bottle of wine with her. Geralt returned his attention to Dandelion’s message. He knew he needed to respond quickly or else the other man would think he had overstepped, but he didn’t know what to say.

“I smile!” he wrote back, and winced. Ugh. Pathetic.

“Not in any of your, admittedly lovely, photographs! I’m trying to imagine what it might look like,” came the quick response.

“Your photographs are lovely too,” Geralt typed, and then sat and stared at the words for what felt like ages. They seemed so inadequate, and yet so mortifying. Still, he had to say something to keep the conversation flowing, so he pressed send. This time, when the next message came through, there was a photo attached.

“Why, Mr Wolf! You flatterer!” In the photo, Dandelion’s face was pink as if it had recently been scrubbed clean, but a small patch of what looked like blue paint remained stuck to his eyebrow. His dark hair was wet and he was wearing a blue top that appeared to shimmer in the bright light he was seated under. His pink lips were pursed as if blowing a kiss and one eye was closed in a roguish wink. His eyelashes looked unbelievably long and dark against his pale skin. He was gorgeous. Geralt almost found it difficult to breathe. 

“Geralt,” he typed back quickly, “my name is Geralt.”

“Hello Geralt. You are new at this aren’t you? Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

Geralt blushed furiously. Apparently sharing his name had been the wrong move. But being called something else hadn’t felt right - “Mr Wolf” as though he was going to go around eating people up! No thank you! He hesitated. Surely Dandelion wasn’t going to want to waste his time on someone who’d proven himself to be as foolish and inept as him.

But then another message came through. “Geralt. What are you looking for here?”

Geralt barked out a laugh. “I thought I was supposed to be asking you that?”

“Oh that’s sweet. You’re sweet. I like that. Alright then, I’m looking for a pay per meet relationship, not an experience daddy. My schedule is flexible, I’m MORE than happy to travel with you and sex is DEFINITELY on the table.”

Geralt’s jaw dropped. That was...more direct than he’d expected. He had to Google “pay per meet” and “experience daddy” (blushing as he did so), but he already knew he was going to give Dandelion anything he wanted. “I can work with that.”

“Delightful! Do you happen to have XenoVox? I find it much more preferable for messaging than this app, plus we have the option for video calls…”

The idea of seeing Dandelion on video, of hearing his voice, was intoxicating. Geralt didn’t think twice before downloading the new app and sending his details through to Dandelion. Before long his phone was making another new kind of noise, alerting him to his first XenoVox message: another picture of Dandelion. This photo was clearly taken on a late night tram, and Geralt’s heart lurched as he realised that this was probably what Dandelion looked like right now. The blue paint smudge was still in his eyebrow but his skin had paled back to its usual colour. His hair had mostly dried and it looked soft and fluffy where it fell across his face. He’d changed into a maroon henley and he was smiling widely, both bright, blue eyes wide open.

Geralt looked down at himself. He was just wearing a plain black t-shirt and black track pants, his hair was up in a loose topknot, and he knew he looked tired. But he couldn’t do anything about that now so he took a photo and was about to send it before he realised - he knew how to make it better! He sent the second photo and started getting ready for bed, resisting the urge to run to his phone the moment he heard it chime. When he did check the message it was exactly what he had hoped for.

“A smile! Is that for me?! It’s beautiful! Goodnight Geralt.”

“Good night Dandelion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Xenovox is voice only and only does one-way communication in Witcher 3, but it just sounded like such a great name for an app so I ran with it
> 
> This is such fun to write & I'm so pleased that people are enjoying it. My plan is to update once a week & I have a bunch more stuff written so hopefully that works out. Please comment and leave kudos and I will love you forever!


	3. Chapter 3

From then on, Geralt and Dandelion were messaging each other almost every night. It was often difficult for Geralt to figure out what to say - he found himself second guessing every message he sent, agonising over every word. Dandelion certainly didn’t seem to have that problem. He appeared perfectly happy to send three messages to every one of Geralt’s, and through those messages Geralt was able to paint a vivid picture of Dandelion’s full and vibrant life. Geralt knew about Dandelion’s work as an itinerant fill-in musician for any number of bands around town: “I just don’t like to be tied down Geralt! Well, I do, but not in the musical sense 😉” (Geralt had blushed hotly at that). He knew about his disagreement with the girl who lived opposite him who had “no appreciation for music, Geralt! None!” He knew about his crush on his PhD supervisor: “She’s a married lesbian and she could eat me alive but I’d let her.” And he knew about his outright feud with another PhD candidate in the Early Music Studio, Valdo Marx: “He is an odious, song stealing little man without a bone of originality in his hideously misshapen body.” Geralt knew that Dandelion got chattier as he got drunker or more tired, that he loved to see photos of the animals brought in to Geralt’s clinic and that he had a very eclectic sense of style. What he didn’t know was the man’s actual name. And it was starting to bother him.

The next night when he got home from work (in a bad mood because he’d been hoping to take Roach out for a ride before the weather had prevented him from doing so) his phone  _ chirped  _ almost as soon as he walked in the door. It was, of course, from Dandelion.

“Good evening, Geralt!”

“Hello”

Dandelion’s reply was swift as ever. Geralt often wondered if his music training improved his typing speed. “And how are we this fine evening?”

Geralt snorted and looked out the window to check that he hadn’t imagined the downpour he’d just walked out of. “Fine? Are we in the same city? It’s pissing down!”

“Ah! But it was sunny this afternoon. A proper Melbourne day!”

“And that makes it fine to you?”

“I love Melbourne! It is a fine city, therefore its vagaries are fine and I love them.”

Geralt mouthed  _ vagaries  _ to himself as he typed back “Fair enough. I’m alright.”

There was a long pause before Dandelion’s next message. Long enough that Geralt wondered if maybe he’d had an idea for a song and forgotten about him - it had happened before. But eventually the message came through. “Would you like to video chat?”

Geralt looked at himself in the mirror on the back of his front door and frowned. He was soaked through from walking in the rain, his long silver hair lay lank across his shoulders and his white business shirt was practically translucent. But he didn’t want to pass up this opportunity.

“Give me a minute to change. I just got home from work and I’ve been out in this fine downpour of yours.”

A reply came in as he was changing, but he ignored it, stripping out of his sodden business shirt and slacks and slipping into a pair of dark jeans and a tight, black, v-necked t-shirt. He twisted his hair up into a bun and hoped that that would make him look vaguely decent. When he finally read the reply, he laughed.

It said “And miss the chance to see you all wet! Show me this Mr Darcy Realness!”

Geralt was still laughing when he pressed the button to start a video call, and when Dandelion came into view, Geralt could see a broad grin break out across the other man’s face.

“Well that is a lovely sound!” Dandelion said. And oh! Speaking of lovely sounds! His voice! Geralt hadn’t given much thought to what Dandelion might sound like, but it made sense that a singer would have such a beautiful voice. “But I see my request was in vain.”

“Sorry about that” Geralt blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. Now that he was actually faced with Dandelion, almost in person, he was back to feeling as awkward as he had when they first started messaging. Not only did Dandelion sound fantastic, he looked gorgeous. He was wearing a button-down shirt in a checked pattern that was mostly pink but had stripes of green, orange, white and purple (it should have looked awful, but somehow, on Dandelion, it worked). The shirt was unbuttoned enough that Geralt could see an intriguing shadow of thick, dark chest hair and tight enough that Geralt could tell that the other man was more muscular than he might seem at first glance.

“No apologies necessary. You're delicious just like this. Look at you! I didn’t know it was possible to have that many muscles!” Dandelion seemed delighted with him, which was a relief. But unfortunately he had no idea how to respond to a statement like that. 

“Uh...thanks?”

Dandelion grinned. “So, dear, how was your day?”

This was safer ground. “You mean aside from nearly drowning on my way home? It was fine. A stray cat someone brought in to the clinic had kittens.”

Dandelion gasped and put his hand on his chest. “Kittens! We have been talking for literal  _ minutes _ and you failed to tell me there were  _ newborn kittens _ in your day? Geralt! How could you keep this from me! Do you have photos? I must see! Do they have names? Who gets to name them? Please tell me it’s not you!"

Geralt laughed and found it difficult to stop, even as he attempted to answer some of Dandelion’s questions. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to keep them a secret. I don’t have any photos on me, my nurse took some though and I can get you one tomorrow. No names yet and I don’t name them. Usually my nurse does.”

“You’re forgiven, but only because I love listening to you talk! Do you sing ever? With that gravel in your voice you could make a killing…”

Geralt cut him off. “I don’t sing.”

Dandelion held his hands up in defeat “Ok, ok. Leave that to me, I suppose! But these kittens! Could I meet them? Could I name one? Pretty please?” And then he, honest to god, fluttered his eyelashes at Geralt.

Geralt huffed a laugh and shrugged. “Sure, why not. Maybe when they’re a bit older. Give them a week or so.”

Dandelion lit up. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Don’t...uh...don’t mention it.” Dandelion’s sheer joy over this simple gift was almost too much to bear. Geralt cast around for something, anything to say and blurted “play something for me?”

Geralt hadn’t thought it was possible, but Dandelion’s smile grew even wider. “Why of course! Let me fetch the lovely Sabine!”

Dandelion dropped his phone and Geralt had a great but fleeting view of his arse in a pair of tight grey jeans as he walked away. When he returned, and had propped the phone up against something, he was holding a many-stringed instrument made of blonde wood, which Geralt had to assume was his lute.

“Sabine, this is Geralt. Geralt, this is the light of my life, my best girl, Sabine.”

Geralt inclined his head awkwardly, never having been introduced to a musical instrument before. 

“Well anyway,” Dandelion began, with a wicked grin on his face, “here’s Wonderwall…”

“Dandelion…” Geralt growled.

The other man laughed. “Oh your  _ face _ . Don’t worry! That’s not what Sabine is for.” Then he schooled his features into a more serious look, placed his fingers on the neck of his lute, strummed a chord and began to sing.

_ Come again, sweet love doth now invite, thy graces that refrain to do me due delight. _

_ To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die with thee again in sweetest sympathy _

_ Come again, that I may cease to mourn through thy unkind disdain for now left and forlorn. _

_ I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die, in deadly pain and endless misery _

_ Gentle love, draw forth thy wounding dart: Thou canst not pierce his heart; For I that do approve. _

_ By sighs and tears more hot than are thy shafts, did tempt while he while he for triumphs laughs. _

Geralt was stunned. Who  _ was  _ this man? How could he make him feel so many things and after such a short time? They hadn’t even  _ met _ , Geralt didn’t even know his  _ name  _ and yet he wanted … he wanted so many things.

“That was beautiful,” Geralt said finally, regaining his ability to speak. “Did you write it?”

“Alas, no. It is over 400 years old, by one John Dowland. But it is one of the songs which got me interested in the lute in the first place, so it has a very special place in my heart.”

Geralt felt like he was going to burst. He felt like he knew so much about this man and yet…

“Dandelion?” he asked “Would you … could I ask … what is your name?”

Dandelion laughed, high and bright and Geralt was struck once again by how gorgeous he was.

“Oh god, have I really not told you? After all this time? How dreadfully rude of me! My name is Jaskier”

“Jaskier.” Geralt smiled, the name suited him somehow. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you, I ... thank you.” For once it was Jaskier who seemed flustered, though Geralt wasn’t sure why. Jaskier looked down at the lute he still held and picked out a fast, vaguely nervous sounding tune. The moment passed quickly though, and Jaskier soon smiled up at him again, those blue eyes bright and happy as always. “So, where to from here? Tell me what pleases you!”

Geralt bit back the words “you, you please me.” He had only just learned Jaskier’s name! Surely it was too soon to say things like that. He was being foolish. What he wanted, more than anything was to be in the same space as Jaskier. To hear that voice undistorted by phone speakers, to find out what he smelled like, to maybe even touch him. He remembered Yennefer saying that a Sugar relationship gave a person an opportunity to be direct so he simply asked “can we meet?” 

Jaskier grinned broadly, looking gratifyingly excited at the prospect. “Why of course! It would be my pleasure.” His grin became somewhat lascivious on that final word and Geralt remembered that a meeting meant Jaskier would get paid. It would be worth it though. He’d do anything for a chance to get to know this man better. 

They hashed out the details of a meeting the next weekend. Geralt was unsure how he was going to maintain his composure for the days he was going to have to wait before meeting Jaskier. Thankfully Jakier seemed similarly excited, picking out cheerful snatches of melody on his lute as they talked and practically wriggling in his seat.

Finally Geralt admitted to himself that it was time that he needed to log off if he was going to be in any fit condition to work the next day. As he was making his goodbyes, Jaskier stopped him.

“Can I play you one more song?”

“Of course!”

Jaskier settled himself straighter on his couch and began to play a soft, simple melody which was somehow filled with intense longing.

_ Est il paradis amie, _

_ Est il paradis qu’amer? _

_ Nenil voir, ma douce amie- _

_ Est il paradis, amie? _

_ Cil qui dort est bras s’amie _

_ A bien paradis tro _ _ v _ _ é. _

_ Est il paradis amie, _

_ Est il paradis qu’amer _

Geralt just stared at Jaskier, heart beating wildly in his chest. He hadn’t even understood what the other man had been singing about, but it had moved him so deeply that he was at a complete loss for words. 

Jaskier put down his lute and picked up his phone, holding it closer to his face. “What do you think? This one was one of mine, by the way, so bear that in mind. Three word review! Come on!”

One of his? He’d  _ written _ that. Did he speak French as well?

“What’s it mean?”

“That’s not a review! And besides the words aren’t mine, they’re from a 13th Century French Rondeaux. But it’s about finding paradise in your lover’s arms. Please! Tell me what you thought!”

“It was…” Geralt paused, unsure how candid he could bring himself to be. But he decided that Jaskier deserved to know how he felt, at least about this. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jaskier’s face lit up and his cheeks grew slightly pink, even as he said “Oh this old thing? It’s nothing. Just one of many pieces in my extensive portfolio! But thank you Geralt. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now I believe you were headed to bed so you can give my kittens the very best of care tomorrow!”

Geralt laughed, glad for Jaskier’s talent for breaking potentially awkward moments. “I won’t forget to send you a photo”

“You better not! I have names to choose after all! Good night, Geralt.”

“Good night, Jaskier”

“I’ll see you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of references for this chapter:
> 
> [This](https://www.asos.com/au/polo-ralph-lauren/polo-ralph-lauren-check-oxford-shirt-slim-fit-player-logo-in-pink/prd/14497830) is the shirt Jaskier is wearing. You know, just so you can fully enjoy the mental image. 
> 
> The first song Jaskier performs is John Dowland’s “Come Again”. [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpvAtdzPV78) is a YouTube video of a performance I really enjoy of it, and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xMDURI-mumI) is Sting performing it, which I kind of feel like might have been a big part of this Jaskier’s Lute Awakening.
> 
> The lyrics for the second song Jaskier performs come from a book titled “The Medieval Lyric” by Peter Dronke, which doesn’t attribute them to any specific author. They can be translated as  
> Is there a paradise, beloved,  
> Is there a paradise but love?  
> No indeed my sweet beloved-  
> Is there a paradise, beloved?  
> Whoever sleeps in his love’s arms  
> Has found paradise.  
> Is there a paradise, beloved,  
> Is there a paradise but love?
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [HMASFatty](https://hmasfatty.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised in putting together the endnotes for this chapter that the links in last chapter's notes were broken. Terribly sorry about that! They are now fixed!

From the moment he got off the train at Flinders Street Station, Geralt was pretty sure that meeting up was a mistake. At the very least, their choice of meeting place had been a definite error in judgement. The steps and stretch of footpath under the station clocks was a whirling mass of humanity and Geralt, who tended to avoid people at all costs, found it frankly overwhelming. There was a small collection of people protesting something over to his right, and to his left a group of goth teenagers were eyeing him speculatively. He crossed his arms and glowered as one of the protesters attempted to approach him with a pamphlet. Where was Jaskier? He hadn’t changed his mind, had he? Surely he would have let Geralt know? They had spoken the night before and Jaskier had sounded excited about their meeting. Geralt stood there, for what seemed like some of the longest moments of his life, wondering if he should just get back on a train and go visit Roach.

Finally, he spotted Jaskier running towards him from the tram stop. Jaskier was wearing tight black jeans, a dark navy double-breasted pea coat with wide lapels which sported a number of pins, black brogue boots with rainbow laces, and a purple and yellow tartan scarf.

As Jaskier approached, Geralt realised the pins on the man’s lapels depicted a bisexual flag, a silver lute, “he/him” inscribed on a teal ribbon and, endearingly, what he was pretty sure was a dandelion. Jaskier was slightly flushed and his hair was tousled by the wind. It was a good look on him, Geralt thought.

“Hi!” Jaskier said brightly. “Sorry I was late, have you been here long? Wow, you’re even bigger in person than I expected! And all this leather!”

Geralt blushed and adjusted his jacket slightly, as if doing so could somehow make himself seem smaller. But Jaskier continued.

“No, no! It’s a good thing, I love it! Anyway, how have you been in the, oh, eight hours or so since we last spoke?”

“Good. I’ve been good. Haven’t been here long. It’s great to see you.” Geralt winced internally, berating himself for not telling the other man how fantastic  _ he _ looked. But Jaskier didn’t seem to notice.

“So, I thought we’d go somewhere simple today. There’s this little bagel shop down Centre Place that is the  _ best _ . They do great coffee too. You can take me somewhere fancy next time”

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at Jaskier’s absolute certainty that there would be a next time. What if the other man got bored of him? What if he realised Geralt couldn’t actually give him what he wanted? His heart threatened to stop altogether when Jaskier casually took his hand and began leading him through the crowd to the traffic lights.

Jaskier looked back at him. “This is alright, right?”

Geralt just nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and they walked hand in hand the couple of blocks to Jaskier’s promised land of bagels and coffee. It was called, strangely, Jungle Juice. 

“What’s with the name?”

Jaskier grinned “ _ Well _ ...no, actually I can’t speak for the owner’s intent with regards to the name, but they do actually serve a juice of the day. But it’s the coffee and the bagels that really pop here.”

“Hmmm.”

They decided to sit on one of the tables out on the street, since it wasn’t actively raining right then. Geralt picked up one of the books sitting on the table. “ _ The Poky Little Puppy’s Naughty Day _ ? What the fuck Jaskier?”

Jaskier laughed “It’s the menu! All the menus here are in old Little Golden Books! See, I’ve got  _ Shy Little Kitten’s Secret Place _ !”

“You do not.”

“I do! Look!” Jaskier showed him the book and they both cracked up laughing. “Oh I do love your laugh! I wish I could hear it more often.” Jaskier said when they finally stopped.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.” Geralt really didn’t know what to say to that, so he changed the subject. “So what’s good on these menus?” 

They settled into a lengthy discussion of the menu, which resulted in Geralt ordering a Bagel Burger and a Marrakesh coffee and Jaskier ordering what he claimed was his “usual” - a McBagel and a Juice of the Day.

“I don’t drink coffee after 12pm unless I’m composing,” Jaskier explained, “it throws my whole sleep cycle completely into ruins.”

“You have a sleep cycle?” Geralt had gotten messages from Jaskier at all hours of the day and night: cute animal pictures, funny things he’d found on the internet, once even a link to a very interesting paper on the use of classical music in veterinary care settings.

Jaskier swatted Geralt gently on the arm. “I sleep just fine … except when my muse grips me! And then I am subject to their whims! It’s not my fault that lately I have found myself particularly inspired!” Jaskier looked meaningfully at Geralt at that, as though  _ he  _ might have had something to do with Jaskier’s recent bout of inspiration. But how could he? They barely knew each other! 

Geralt was saved from replying to that by their food arriving. He bit into his and was pleased to find it every bit as delicious as Jaskier had claimed. His coffee was rich and strong and intensely spiced and his only complaint is that there wasn’t more of it. 

“Aha! You’re one of these Melbourne coffee people who die if you drop below a certain level of caffeine in your blood, aren’t you?” laughed Jaskier, clearly amused at the face Geralt had pulled at his empty coffee cup. “Did you grow up here?”

“No,” Geralt said warily, unsure of how much of his childhood he was about to be expected to reveal “grew up in the Blue Mountains mostly. Foster homes. Came down to Melbourne when I was 16. Been here ever since.”

“Ah. Sorry to pry.”

“It’s ok. I’ve got a good life here. Friends, good job, my horse. Times were I didn’t think I’d have any of that. Anyway, what about you? Where are you from?” 

Jaskier didn’t look any more pleased with this line of questioning than Geralt had been.

“Adelaide, if you must know.”

“Is that...is that why you talk like that?”

Jaskier puffed up in what looked like only slightly feigned outrage. “What on earth do you mean ‘is that why you talk like that?’ Just because some of us  _ do  _ talk instead of relying on grunts and … and … and…”

Geralt felt suddenly bold and he slid his hand across the table to lay it on top of Jaskier’s, cutting his rant off before it could truly begin. Their hands fit well together - Jaskier had a broad palm and long, slender fingers - and while Geralt’s hand  _ was _ bigger, with thicker fingers and wider knuckles, they were a similar size. “I like the way you talk.”

“Well. That’s alright then!” Pink suffused Jaskier’s cheeks and Geralt felt himself blushing furiously too. And all over a little hand-holding! Jaskier blushed very prettily, Geralt thought.

They sat there a while longer, holding hands and talking about anything and nothing. Geralt found himself quite at peace, despite the bustling crowd walking past them. Finally, he had to admit to himself that the staff had been eyeing off their table for quite some time and he reluctantly withdrew his hand from Jaskier’s.

“Suppose we best be leaving before they throw us out.”

“Oh they’d never! I’m a regular! But we have been here quite some time.”

“I’ll settle up and then maybe we can, I don’t know, go for a walk somewhere?”

Jaskier had looked sad at the idea of leaving, but when Geralt suggested a continuation of their date he perked up and started babbling ideas of places they could go. Geralt laughed and got up, gesturing at the window where he could see the EFTPOS machine. There was a tall woman with long, straight brown hair behind it and when he handed over his card she looked him up and down with a serious expression.

“You be good to him,” she said. “He’s a great guy. He deserves someone kind in his life.”

For some reason, Geralt found himself saying “I’ll be as good to him as he’ll let me be,” which was a thought he’d barely allowed himself to have, let alone something he ever expected to say out loud. He looked around, hoping that Jaskier didn’t hear him. Thankfully, the other man was distracted by a display of neon earrings in a nearby shop window. The woman at Jungle Juice handed him back his card with a smile, as if he’d passed some kind of test, and he walked away from her as quickly as he could.

When Geralt reached Jaskier, Jaskier turned from the window he’d been admiring and grinned at Geralt. “What do you think? The pink and yellow ones! Think I could pull them off?”

The earrings in question had circle studs with a large teardrop shape attached to them. They were a glossy yellow in the centre of both shapes, with a rim of neon pink beads surrounding them. They were, Geralt thought, hideous. 

“They don’t really match your whole...look?” Geralt said hesitantly.

Jaskier laughed and his expression turned sly. “Not this look, maybe. But imagine an updo, a face full of makeup and a gown and then what do you think?”

Geralt was beginning to feel like this was another test. “You could certainly pull them off, but would you want to? Surely something more…”

Geralt failed to finish his sentence as a grinning Jaskier grabbed his hand and pulled him into the shop. What followed then was a retail whirlwind of epic proportions. From that first shop (where Geralt ended up buying Jaskier not only the hideous earrings but also a pair of lace gloves and a mint green scarf with gold polka dots) they went across the street to another store, where Jaskier fluttered his eyelashes and managed to get Geralt to buy him a raincoat covered in what looked like medieval illustrations of flowers. And so it went, store after store until both Geralt’s feet and his credit card were beginning to feel very weary indeed.

They finally stopped, nearly back where they had started, at Brunetti’s in Flinders Lane where Geralt had a long macchiato and Jaskier had some ridiculous cream-filled cake. Geralt was feeling dazed by the adventure he had just been on, and by the pile of bags at their feet. He had noticed, however, that Jaskier was particular about what he bought, or asked Geralt to buy him. He didn’t ask for things over a certain price point, he didn’t ask for more than a certain number of items in any one shop, and everything he bought seemed to be of good quality (with the possible exception of those damn earrings). That seemed considerate to him, and he appreciated it. But damn if he knew how to say that to Jaskier.

Jaskier, blissfully unaware of Geralt’s dazed introspection, finished his cake with a pleased hum and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I must say you’re doing well. Tamara at Jungle Juice didn’t scare you off. Finding out I’m a drag queen didn’t scare you off. Neither did shopping with me.”

“I don’t scare easily.” 

“I can see that.” Jaskier eyed him appreciatively “I can definitely see that.“

Geralt wasn’t sure what that look in Jaskier’s eyes meant so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Where do you perform?”

“What?” Jaskier looked surprised.

“You say you’re a drag queen. Do you perform somewhere?”

“I...well...yes! I don’t have a regular spot, but I sometimes do Drag Bingo at Mollie’s in Fitzroy on Wednesday nights and occasionally I’ll do a Saturday night at Pride Of Our Footscray.”

“I live in Footscray. Could I come and see you perform some time?”

“I didn’t expect...but of course! I’m not performing there again for a month but when I do I’ll make sure to put your name on the door.”

Geralt suddenly realised something. “Had you been performing the night you first sent me a photo?”

Jaskier smiled, “Yes I had! At Mollie’s. Awful night, some drunk straight idiots were getting very rowdy up the back the whole time. But hearing from you made it all better!”

Geralt ducked his head to avoid Jaskier’s warm blue-eyed gaze. “That explains the blue paint. I’d been wondering about that.”

“You should have asked! You can ask me anything.”

“Alright then...how are you going to carry all these bags home all by yourself?”

“You beast! I’d say that was a perfect opportunity to invite you over, but honestly I think there's something alive in my apartment that shouldn’t be right now and unless you moonlight as a monster hunter I just don’t want to risk you.”

“Sounds serious! You’re willing to risk yourself?”

“We’ve come to an agreement. I don’t pour bleach on it and it doesn’t poison me in my sleep.”

“That doesn't sound sustainable. You should hire a cleaning service.”

Jaskier looks awkward. It’s the first time Geralt’s seen an experion like this on his face. “I haven’t...uh...had the money.”

Geralt is an idiot. Jaskier is a poor student. That’s the whole point of this arrangement. He doesn’t have money for cleaning services. “Well, now you do.” He said, ignoring the metaphorical sobbing of his already overworked credit card. “How do we do this, anyway? This whole,” he lowered his voice, “Pay Per Meet business.”

Jaskier’s expression cleared, and he even went so far as to smirk at Geralt. “You are so cute. There’s an app called Vivaldi. I give you my username on it and you can just...” he made a complex hand gesture, “send me money. Here, look I’ll show you.”

Jaskier moved round to the same side of the table as Geralt and slid in close on the bench next to him. They were pressed together shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, knee to knee. Geralt’s body sang at the closeness. He barely took anything in as Jaskier walked him through downloading the app, making an account and adding him as a contact (his username was, of course, Dandelion).

When Jaskier returned his phone to him and looked up at him with a soft smile Geralt blurted “Can I kiss you?” 

Jaskier’s smile widened. “I’d like that.”

Geralt leaned down and brushed his lips gently against Jaskier’s. The other man let out a soft noise and Geralt immediately pressed in for a firmer kiss. Geralt couldn’t believe that he was doing this! Yennefer had never been one for public displays of affection so kissing in public is something he had not done since he was a teenager. And that Jaskier was really here, in his arms, kissing him back passionately, making those small breathy noises, sneaking his hand toward Geralt’s crotch in a way that was totally going to get them kicked out if Geralt didn’t do something about it.

With a herculean effort Geralt tore his mouth away from Jaskier’s, grabbed the other man’s hand before it could reach its intended target and tried to calm his racing heart.

Jaskier pouted “Things were just getting interesting.”

“Not here!” Geralt growled softly.

“But somewhere, yes? There’s a fantastic hotel nearby. Has a statue of a horse in the lobby. You’d love it!” Jaskier’s cheeks were pink and his smile was broad but there was a hesitance around his eyes, as though he expected Geralt to turn him down. As though he was afraid this was a step too far.

Geralt considered it carefully. Any hotel in the city was likely to be expensive, especially given they were likely to only be using it for a few hours at most. And was he really ready to fall into bed with Jaskier so soon? He’d been with men before, but not since before he’d met Yennefer, and even then only occasionally. But something about Jaskier made him feel so comfortable and yet so alive and he was desperate to experience everything he could of this remarkable man. So he leaned in and kissed Jaskier again, gently and said “lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I’d just like to say that I am not being paid in any way by Jungle Juice to promote their bagels. My wife and I went on our first date there and I’ve been a loyal customer ever since. All of the places mentioned in this fic are real - the shop next to Jungle Juice is called Kinki Gerlinki and the shop they buy [the raincoat](https://www.princesshighway.com.au/shop/medieval-raincoat.html) from is called Princess Highway. Jaskier’s pronoun pin is one of [these](https://www.etsy.com/au/listing/746490211/he-him-male-masculine-gender-pronoun?ref=shop_home_active_23). Vivaldi’s is the bank in the Witcher so, you know, I had to make it the money app. I realise that this fic is _incredibly_ self-indulgent and I thank you all for bearing with me. Also I really hope someone else from Melbourne is reading this and going “hey I know that place!!”
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! You can find me on tumblr at [HMASFatty](https://hmasfatty.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrestled with whether or not to up the rating on this fic for quite some time, but my lovely wife (who is also my fantastic beta) convinced me that this chapter did indeed deserve an Explicit rating. So here we are!

Jaskier led Geralt down Flinders Lane, weaving effortlessly between the throngs of people. He was gripping tightly to Geralt’s hand, as if afraid Geralt would slip away. Geralt knew the feeling. He couldn’t believe they were going to do this! Yennefer was going to laugh at him when she found out. A moment of doubt gripped him. Were they moving too fast? Were the staff at the hotel going to know they were renting a room just to have sex in it? Would they judge him? Would they refuse to give him a room? What was going to happen if they did get a room? What did Jaskier expect from him? He remembered Yennefer saying that Jaskier would “know how to take orders”. Would Jaskier expect him to give him orders? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Just as Geralt’s anxiety spiral was reaching its peak, Jaskier stopped and smiled back at him, his bright blue eyes and cheerful grin going a long way to dispel Geralt’s maelstrom of doubts. “Here we are! The Adelphi Hotel! Home of one charming horse statue, a terrifying glass bottomed rooftop pool and, most usefully, some delightful bedrooms.”

He let go of Geralt’s hand to bow with a ridiculous flourish and Geralt found much of his anxiety eased as he laughed at Jaskier’s theatrics. 

There was indeed a horse statue in the lobby. It was life size, made of wire mesh and it was connected to a carriage-shaped desk behind which stood a smiling woman. Geralt took a deep breath and mustered up all his confidence to walk up to her and request a room, as if it was something he did every day - constantly aware of Jaskier’s eyes on his back as he did so. Thankfully the woman didn’t seem at all fazed by his request, merely perfectly happy to take his credit card and hand them two keys to a candy-coloured room with a large bed.

When they reached the room, Jaskier sprawled out on the bed immediately, unbuttoning his coat to reveal a bottle green knit sweater. Geralt stood back a moment and looked his fill, enjoying the long, lean lines of the other man’s body.

Jaskier noticed him looking, propped himself up on his elbows and leered. “Like what you see?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, frankly.

“Oh! Well! That’s good...yeah...good!” Jaskier seemed surprised by his admission and Geralt wished he was someone who found it easier to be free with compliments. 

“Come on then!” Jaskier continued, “take off that jacket! Let me see those arms of yours!”

Geralt laughed and shook his head slightly, but shrugged out of his leather jacket all the same. He was wearing a thin, long-sleeved black t-shirt underneath and he knew that it clung to his muscles in ways that Yennefer had once called “obscene”.

Jaskier wolf-whistled, sat up enough to take off his coat completely and, after a long, lingering look up and down Geralt’s body, to pull his sweater off as well. Under his sweater Jaskier was wearing a thin, white cotton shirt with delicate embroidery across the front. It had a low neckline and Geralt could see curls of Jaskier’s chest hair peeking through it. Geralt couldn’t stand waiting any longer.

“Come here and kiss me,” he said, in a low, rough voice. Jaskier hopped up from the bed immediately, crowding into Geralt’s space, tipping his head up to be kissed. Geralt kissed him with desperation. He burned with how much he wanted Jaskier, with how good it felt to be pressed against his firm body, licking into his mouth, hearing his breathy noises of pleasure. He gripped Jaskier tightly to him, and felt the hard evidence of Jaskier’s arousal against his hip. Jaskier tipped his head back and moaned before pushing Geralt back against the nearest wall and dropping to his knees.

Geralt stared down at him, stunned into immobility, not used to being pushed around in bed and not having expected, well, any of this.

Jaskier attacked the fasteners of Geralt’s jeans with a single-minded intensity, pushing them and his boxer briefs to the ground as quickly as he could. And then he sat back and just stared at Geralt for a long moment.

“Good God Geralt!” Jaskier finally exclaimed. “If I’d known this was what you were packing...well…” he trailed off, and Geralt eyed him apprehensively. Geralt knew his dick was above average and that his size had put other partners off in the past. But Jaskier only smiled sunnily up at him and said “If you think I can wait another second to taste this beauty, you don’t know me at all.”

“I  _ don’t  _ know you at all”, Geralt deadpanned quietly, though inside he breathed a sigh of relief. Jaskier continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. 

“But you won’t be getting the full Jaskier Experience today, that’s for sure. I’ve got a performance tonight and I need my voice in perfect condition.” He ducked his head and swirled his tongue around the thick head of Geralt’s dick. Geralt groaned and his hands fluttered at his sides, longing to slip them into the other man’s hair but unsure if they would be welcome. Jaskier continued to lick, tongue moving in intricate patterns, teasing at the slit, lapping up drops of precome. He glanced up at Geralt, caught a glimpse of one of those fluttering hands and grinned broadly.

“Nope. Not on your life. Hands against the wall.” Geralt complied, and Jaskier’s grin grew even broader. “Oh, so you can do as you’re told. Interesting.”

“I can. Can you?” Geralt growled, only half putting it on. He was hard as a rock and aching to have Jaskier’s talented mouth back on him again.

Jaskier winked, actually  _ winked _ and returned his attention to Geralt’s straining cock. This time, he took the whole head in his mouth, stretching his lips wide, and sucked, causing Geralt to shout wordlessly and shut his eyes briefly, lest it all be over before it was even begun. Jaskier wrapped one of his elegant, long-fingered hands around the base of Geralt’s dick and squeezed gently before moving his mouth inexorably slowly down the shaft to meet it. What followed was the slowest, most intense blow job of Geralt’s life - Jaskier’s hand and mouth working in perfect counterpoint to drive him completely insane. It was all he could do to keep his hands against the wall, to keep his hips still and, when he was moments away from completion, to choke out a warning.

Jaskier pulled his mouth off Geralt’s dick and continued to stroke him with firm, unhurried strokes. He smiled up at him, lips red and puffy and said 

“I’d love it if you came on my face”. That was too much for Geralt. His hips snapped forward, one of his hands tore away from the wall as if possessed and covered Jaskier’s smaller one on his dick. He fucked in to their joined hands hard only a few times before he was coming in thick spurts all over Jaskier’s smiling, upturned face. Jaskier licked his lips showily and Geralt’s dick twitched, as if it hadn’t finished coming mere seconds earlier. As the haze of orgasm lifted he realised Jaskier was still hard and untouched, straining the front of his ridiculously tight jeans.

“Do you want…”

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’ve got this. You just stand there and look pretty.” Geralt wasn’t sure about looking pretty, but standing there he could do. Stand there and watch hungrily as Jaskier unbuttoned those jeans, pulled them down just far enough to reveal a very nice, curved cock (which was already hard and leaking just from sucking him off), licked his hand and wrapped it around himself. Jaskier began to jerk himself off with quick strokes, gazing up at Geralt as if he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to. Something in Geralt twinged, even as his dick made a valiant effort to get hard again at the picture he was being presented with. 

“Slow down,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Slow down he says!” Jaskier laughed, even as the hand on his cock slowed and gentled. “Have you seen yourself? Have you...well you probably haven’t had your own dick in your mouth but anyway I’m surprised I haven’t already embarrassed myself and you want me to slow down!” The last word came out on a moan as he twisted his hand around the head of his dick and Geralt wanted nothing more than to get down there and help him out. To touch him, taste him, fuck him, see what more noises he could wring out of him. But he’d been told to watch, so that’s what he did. Jaskier looked at him curiously, even as he was starting to pant harder, the strain of keeping up his new, slower pace obviously getting to him.

“You’re awfully polite. Other people would have…” 

Geralt cut him off with a growl. “I’m not other people.”

“No. No, I can see that.” With that cryptic comment, Jaskier returned his attention to the job at hand, stroking his cock slowly but firmly, keeping his eyes fixed on Geralt’s, babbling an endless stream of filthy nonsense about how good it felt and how good sucking Geralt’s cock had been until finally he began to shake and he hunched in over himself as he came, careful not to let any spill on his jeans, his shirt, or the hotel carpet. Then he sat back on his heels, face still covered in Geralt’s come, and grinned.

“Well! Wasn’t that fun! Don’t suppose you noticed where the bathroom was?”

Geralt blinked. He’d rather been entertaining ideas of cleaning the other man up himself, possibly using it as an opportunity to start a round two. But he didn’t want to push things, so he gestured towards the bathroom door and set about putting himself together so he was less exposed when Jaskier came back out, face and hands scrubbed clean, humming a catchy tune.

“So…” remarked Jaskier, with what was quite clearly a leer, “do I meet with your approval?”

Geralt fought hard not to blush and cursed Yennefer in his head for good measure. What was he supposed to say to that? He must have paused too long because the smile started to slip from Jaskier’s face, so he blurted “I play hockey.”

The leer was back full force. “Do you now?”

“For the Witchers. We have a game next Saturday, in Docklands. I can get you a ticket if...if you want to come.”

“I’d be delighted! Message me the details. But for now I simply must run. Places to go, people to see.” His voice has become high, affected. Even Geralt can tell he’s just providing them with an out. And he wants him to stay. God, does he want him to. But that is scary in itself. So he lets him walk out the door. And then, because he knows it’s what he’s supposed to do, he Vivaldis him some money “for places to go and people to see.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Adelphi Hotel is a candy themed hotel in the Melbourne CBD (appropriate for our sugar couple, no?) and it does indeed boast a life size horse statue and a glass bottomed swimming pool on the roof that juts out over the laneway and terrifies me every time I walk underneath it. [Here](https://www.augustman.com/sg/travel/travel-guides/melbournes-adelphi-hotel-sweet-dreams-are-made-of-this/) is a review of the hotel, complete with some gorgeous photos.


	6. Chapter 6

Wiping the sweat from his face with a rough towel, Geralt grinned across the locker room at Lambert who was stripping himself out of his gear as quickly as he could.

“You got someplace better to be?” Geralt called out to him.

“Better than here with you cunts? Always! But tonight Aiden’s in town and… ” Lambert was cut off by a rousing chorus of friendly jeers (and a couple of balled up socks thrown at his head). Geralt chuckled and re-tied his ponytail, checking himself in the mirror. He hoped Lambert would bring his boyfriend to the pub after they’d finished catching up, Aiden was always a good time. 

“What about you Geralt?” Asked Eskel, “any reason you’re making yourself pretty over there?”

Geralt grunted in response. “As if I’d tell any of you bastards if there was. Good game tonight! See you in the pub!” And with that he strode out of the locker room. 

Geralt was in a good mood - it had been a great game! The Melbourne Witchers had beaten the Canberra Brave 4-1 and Geralt himself had gotten an assist on the game winning goal as well as getting a few decent hits in. Not only that, but when he’d turned his phone on after the game it had blown up with a flood of messages from Jaskier, so he knew he was there and had been watching. Stopping to take a couple of photos with fans at the entrance to the locker rooms, Geralt scanned the crowd for Jaskier. He couldn’t see him anywhere, but he did see Yennefer, the light catching as it always did on her mass of glossy black hair and her sparkling earrings. He headed over to her and as he did the figure standing next to her in the bright yellow beanie turned and there was Jaskier! Geralt’s insides did a number of complicated things at once. Jaskier looked fantastic - the cold rink air made his cheeks pink and his lips red and Geralt wanted to rip off that ridiculous hat and just kiss him senseless right there. But he had clearly already met Yennefer which was... troublesome. Obviously he wanted the two to meet - his best friend and his, well, whatever they were - but he’d hoped he could have done the introductions, maybe moderated the conversation a little, made sure they got along. Well it was too late now, they had seen him and Jaskier was waving him over enthusiastically, while Yennefer looked between them with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. When he reached them Yennefer leaned over and kissed his cheek, patting him on the shoulder and unerringly brushing against a developing bruise.

“Good game. That hit in the second was brutal - Hughes is going to be feeling that for weeks. And that pass to Carpenter for the game winner! Beautiful!”

Geralt shrugged, a small smile playing about his lips. Yennefer played for the Witchers’ women’s team in the summer - that had been how they met in fact - so she knew her hockey & he usually relished the opportunity to go over a game with her after it was over. But he was all too aware of Jaskier standing there looking absurd and yet still intensely attractive in a riot of colours. As well as his yellow hat (which had an absurdly large pom pom on it) he wore red jeans (tight, as seemed to be his trademark), a navy and white striped knit sweater, a bright blue scarf, yellow gloves and black boots. Geralt turned to him and his eyes lit up. “Did you enjoy the game?” Geralt asked. 

Jaskier beamed. “It was  _ brilliant _ . You’re all so  _ fast _ and my  _ god  _ Geralt when you rammed those guys into the walls it was just…”

“Boards, dear,” Yennefer interrupted, looking amused.

“Right! Yes! You said! The boards! And I must say these uniforms are very fetching, not that you don’t look good all the time but  _ lord  _ Geralt you look like you could just…”

Jaskier looked like he was working himself up into quite the soliloquy and Geralt wasn’t sure he could stand to hear it, right there in the middle of the rink crowd on a Saturday afternoon, so he cut him off as gently as he could. “I’ve gotta...go. Get changed. Sure I’m starting to stink. Just wanted to check that you were here. But we go to the brewery up the way after every game and you’re welcome to come along. You could...uh...meet a couple of the other guys.”

Jaskier’s smile is soft, Yennefer’s is knowing. She replied first. “I’ll make sure he gets there alright.”

Geralt throws her a grateful look and heads back through the thinning crowd to the safety of the locker room to shower and change. He hadn’t been prepared for what Jaskier’s presence in his everyday life would feel like. Why did he find himself extending invitations like this to the other man? Realistically it made no sense. The day was going to come (and soon) when Geralt could no longer afford to keep Jaskier in the manner to which he was accustomed and the more he let him into his life the more that day was going to hurt. That week, since their date, had been full of flirtatious messages and one extremely memorable incident where Jaskier had answered a video call beautifully, unashamedly naked and proceeded to jerk himself off for Geralt while describing in almost excruciatingly exquisite detail all the things he wanted them to do together. Geralt had been too stunned to do much more than sit there and watch him, though apparently whatever expression he had had on his face had been encouragement enough. That and the money he’d sent him afterwards, he supposed. He’d bought Jaskier dinner late one night too, when the other man had been composing and had forgotten to eat. Geralt had had pho and bubble tea delivered to what appeared to be student accommodation on Swanston Street and received an effusive torrent of thanks and emoji in return. Geralt wasn’t sure if he was doing this whole Sugar Daddy thing right, but Jaskier seemed happy and he certainly wasn’t in any position to complain (until he got his next credit card bill, that was).

Geralt suddenly realised that the locker room was starting to fill up with players from one of the beer league teams who had the ice after the Witchers’ game. He’d been standing there, half dressed, lost in thought for way too long. He quickly pulled on a dark grey tshirt and his leather jacket, packed up his gear bag and headed out.

When Geralt arrived at the brewery Jaskier and Yennefer were sitting at the end of a long table near the door. Jaskier had taken off his yellow hat and his hair looked soft and endearingly dishevelled. He was gesticulating wildly at Yennefer, who watched him with a small, amused smile. Yennefer’s smile grew broader as Geralt approached them and once he was within earshot Geralt realised why.

“… big. Like who even needs that much shoulder? What is it for? Except to personally victimise me? And another thing…”

“He’s had one beer.” Yennefer drawled, clearly extremely amused. 

Jaskier yelped and twisted around in his seat to stare at Geralt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He blushed fetchingly, but apparently refused to let a little embarrassment get him down.

“Geralt! They have pink beer! It’s delicious! You have to try some...but I appear to have run out.”

“I guess I’ll head to the bar then,” Geralt said “Yen, what are you…”

“No Geralt, I’ll go. You and Jaskier sit and catch up. Your usual, I assume?” Yennefer rose gracefully to her feet and waved Geralt on to the bench seat next to Jaskier.

When Geralt was seated, Jaskier slid up close to him so their thighs and shoulders were touching.

“Hi,” Jaskier said softly, “is this alright?” 

Geralt nodded. Eventually someone from his team was going to notice him and there were going to be annoying questions and bad jokes but for now it was nice to just sit here and be close with Jaskier.

“That really was a phenomenal game, Geralt.” Jaskier continued in a less intimate tone. “I’ve never been one for sport but I could definitely get into this! I don’t understand how such huge men can move so fast. And the way you just crash into each other and then get right back up again. Thrilling! I’m a total convert. This is my new favourite sport.”

“What was your old favourite sport?” Geralt asked wryly.

“Chess.”

“That’s not … that’s not a…” Geralt sputtered, unsure whether Jaskier was pulling his leg or not.

Jaskier laughed brightly. “Don’t let the chess nerds hear you say that!”

Geralt laughed. “Speaking of chess nerds,” he said, waving over a tall man with dark hair and a nose that had clearly been broken a couple of times, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Geralt had been nervous about Jaskier meeting Eskel, but he shouldn’t have been. The two men instantly fell into a deep discussion of Melbourne’s art galleries, of all things, allowing Geralt a moment to sit and admire Jaskier’s animated face and wildly gesticulating hands.

Eventually, Yennefer returned with their drinks - a glass of red wine for her, a pint of what Geralt assumed was more of the pink beer for Jaskier and a pint of Enigma Black Ale for Geralt.

“Wow!” Jaskier exclaimed, “even your beer is goth!”

Geralt rolled his eyes and took a sip. He almost spat it out again as he was immediately slapped hard on the back. It was Lambert. Of course it was Lambert.

“Geralt! This is why you were making yourself all pretty! Waste of an effort, they’re both much prettier than you’ll ever be.”

Geralt sighed. “Lamber, you know Yen. This is Jaskier. Jaskier, this is my teammate Lambert. Don’t listen to anything he says. He’s an asshole.”

“I’m the asshole? The things I could tell you about this bastard! Nice to meet you Jaskier. Yennefer, a delight to see you as always.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, picked up her wine glass and disappeared again off into the throng of people to seek different company.

Jaskier, for his part, looked thrilled to meet Lambert. “That was a fantastic game! You scored, right? In the second period? Yennefer was trying to tell me who you all were while the game was going on but it was hard to keep up.”

Geralt shot a look at Yennefer, which she returned coolly. He hadn’t realised they’d sat together throughout the entire game! Who knows what they’d discussed.

“Always nice to meet a fan.” Lambert drawled, actually going so far as to ruffle Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier seemed unoffended and snorted a laugh into his beer. 

“Where’s your better half?” Geralt asked, glaring at Lambert.

Lambert waved his hand and said airily “oh he’s off having a one-sided argument with Vesemir about the Brave’s power play or some such. He’ll be over soon. Budge up.” Lambert slid on to the bench on Geralt’s right, pressing him even closer against Jaskier on his left. Jaskier’s body was a hot line against Geralt’s, he could feel every minute shift the other man made. It was very distracting.

The next couple of hours was a whirlwind of introductions, as word went round the team that Geralt had brought someone new to the pub and every player came by to meet Jaskier and say  _ something  _ embarrassing about Geralt. Jaskier looked delighted by the parade of large, well-built men and their string of anecdotes but Geralt wanted to just sink through the floor. By the time Vesemir came over, Jaskier was on his third pint of that ridiculous pink beer and he was leaning heavily against Geralt, cheeks rosy and his body terribly, wonderfully warm. Seeing Vesemir approach, Geralt sat up straighter and, as if sensing that this was someone important, Jaskier did too.

“Good game today, Geralt,” Vesemir said as he approached their table.

“Thanks, Coach. Jaskier, this is Vesemir. He’s the head coach of the Witchers and … uh … he’s been my foster dad since I was 16. Taught me how to skate. Vesemir, this is Jaskier. He’s … well…”

Vesemir took pity on him “Lovely to meet you Jaskier. What an interesting name. How did you enjoy the game tonight?

Jaskier beamed up at Vesemir. “Oh it is  _ so _ nice to meet you. I’m having a  _ wonderful _ time tonight. You have a great team here. The game was fantastic and everyone has made me feel  _ so _ welcome.”

“Well that’s good to hear. And my boy here is taking good care of you?” Vesemir asked, with a glint in his eye.

Geralt groaned and Jaskier laughed, reaching up to toy with a bit of hair that had escaped from Geralt’s ponytail.

“He’s taking the  _ best  _ care of me. And I promise I’ll take good care of him right back.”

Vesemir nodded at that and patted Geralt on the shoulder.

“Alright then. You boys have a good night.” And with that he wandered off to terrorise somebody else.

Once Vesemir had left, Jaskier drained his beer, stood up and bent close to Geralt’s ear to whisper “How about you come take care of me in the bathrooms right now?”

Geralt was too shocked to respond, but Jaskier didn’t seem to care, sauntering off towards the bathrooms with a sway in his step.

Geralt wrestled with his sense of propriety for a long moment before he got up and followed Jaskier slowly to the bathroom, hoping that none of his teammates were paying attention to them. The moment he stepped inside, Jaskier was on him.

“I thought you weren’t going to follow. I thought I was going to just have to jerk off in here by myself, thinking about how good you looked out there tonight, about how much I wanted your body pressed against mine, how much I wanted you to hold me down and ruin me.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt gasped, turning so he could crowd the other man up against the door (and conveniently snib the lock while he was at it). Their mouths crashed together in a bruising kiss, full of desperation and heat. In a brief moment of clearheadedness, Geralt thought through what Jaskier had said he wanted, and what he could practically give him under the circumstances. He reluctantly tore himself away from Jaskier’s embrace, and grabbed the other man’s hands, holding both his wrists in one hand. Jaskier gave a grin which was almost feral. Geraly lifted Jaskier’s hands slowly over his head, giving him ample opportunity to protest. But no such protest was forthcoming. When Geralt had Jaskier’s wrists held tight against the door, high above his head, Jaskier arched his back, putting his whole body on display. Geralt leaned forward and kissed Jaskier again, gently this time, almost teasingly, as with the other hand he started to unbutton Jaskier’s jeans. Jaskier tried to deepen the kiss, but Geralt kept his kisses light, even while he dragged Jaskier’s jeans and briefs down far enough to free his half hard cock. Before he could second guess himself, Geralt pulled back from the kiss, brought his hand up to Jaskier’s mouth and said “get it nice and wet.”

Jaskier’s eyes flashed and he set himself to his task with enthusiasm. When Geralt’s hand was slick with saliva he brought it down and gave Jaskier’s dick a long, firm stroke. Jaskier made a garbled noise and arched against the door again, this time less artfully.

“You’ve gotta be quiet!” Geralt growled. “Be quiet or I’ll stop.”

Jaskier nodded and bit his lip. Geralt stroked his dick again, with that same slow firmness but finished with a twist around the head. Jaskier’s hips bucked forward and Geralt had to fight to keep his hands anchored to the door. Geralt knew he was running out of time before they were discovered so he sped up his hand on Jaskier’s dick. Jaskier was panting heavily but was otherwise doing an admirable job of staying silent, and although he wasn’t actively struggling to free himself from Geralt’s grip he was writhing enough that it took all of Geralt’s not inconsiderable strength to keep him up against the door. Finally, Geralt swiped his thumb over the head of Jaskier’s dick one last time and Jaskier gasped like he’d been punched, started to shake, and came all over Geralt’s hand.

Geralt gently released Jaskier’s hands and helped him lower himself to the floor before going to the sink to wash his own hand. He hurried back over to Jaskier, knelt down next to him and asked “Was that alright?”

Jaskier looked at him incredulously. “Was that alright? Was that alright, he says? Geralt, that was fantastic! My only complaint is that I didn’t get to see that magnificent cock of yours! You don’t suppose…”

Just then there was a banging on the door and Geralt could hear Eskel saying “Hey! Why is this locked?” They were in trouble now!

Geralt looked at Jaskier in alarm, only to find the other man shaking with silent laughter. Well he was clearly going to be no use. As Geralt was struggling to think of something to say, Eskel’s voice came again.

“Whoever’s in there, you’ve got five minutes and then I’m coming back with the key so I suggest you be gone.”

They were lucky it had been Eskel. If it had been any of the rest of his teammates they would have made much more of a fuss.

Thankfully Jaskier seemed to have gotten over his laughing fit and was quickly setting himself to rights. Geralt hurried to do the same before rising from the floor and offering Jaskier a hand to help him up. They stood there for a moment, holding hands, before Geralt ducked his head down for one more kiss.

“Ok,” Geralt said. “Time to face the music.”

“My speciality!” Jaskier grinned, and they walked out of the bathroom together hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the O'Brien Icehouse! Home of the Melbourne Witchers (who are replacing my team, the Melbourne Ice, in the Australian Ice Hockey League - sorry boys!). One day, I will write a whole seperate fic which is just about Geralt AND Jaskier being hockey players together, but today is not that day. 
> 
> Urban Alley Brewery is the pub of choice for Ice/Witchers fans and they do indeed sell a beer called Urban Pink. It's a mid-strength beer though so either Jaskier is a real lightweight or he's just Like That all the time. The Enigma Black Ale also genuinely appears on their menu and seemed a perfect fit for Geralt.
> 
> I'm struggling really badly with a combo of writers block and life coming at me hard right now so I apologise if the next chapter doesn't go up on time. There's a whole bunch of scenes that are floating around in my head that I want very badly to share with you all but they're resisting being put down on paper. I really appreciate all your very kind comments and your kudos and I hope to be back with you soon! In the meantime, come find me on [tumblr](https://hmasfatty.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! So I have sections of at least two more chapters written (including a sex scene), and a good idea of where the story is going. I hope to keep it updated fairly regularly, but this is my first time writing a chaptered story so who knows!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought and/or give me some kudos!


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